Disciplinary Measures
by Lys ap Adin
Summary: Shouichi could admit that he was hardly suited to be anyone's white knight, but then, he didn't think what Aomine needed was a white knight, so perhaps it worked out better that way. Imayoshi x Aomine, spanking and smut, follows "Discipline and Punish."


**Title:** Disciplinary Measures  
**Characters/Pairings:** Imayoshi/Aomine  
**Summary:** Shouichi could admit that he was hardly suited to be anyone's white knight, but then, he didn't think what Aomine _needed_ was a white knight, so perhaps it worked out better that way.  
**Notes:** Adult for smut; written for Porn Battle XV. Follows "Discipline and Punish." Spanking and a very toppy Imayoshi. 2066 words.

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**Disciplinary Measures**

A man who didn't avail himself of reconnaissance when he had embarked on what promised to be a fascinating and arduous campaign did not deserve to win that campaign, and so Shouichi made it his immediate business to invite their charming team manager to enlighten him as to the nature, habits, and history of Aomine Daiki, power forward, porn enthusiast, and all-around pain in Shouichi's ass. He came to their conference prepared to charm, coax, and otherwise wheedle Aomine's secrets from Momoi-chan's lips; he left it considerably burdened in mind and spirit, as Momoi-chan had needed no coaxing at all and had shared her knowledge, fears, and suspicions with the air of one desperate. It was plain to see that she was mightily worried for her friend, and just as plain that she didn't have a lot of hope that even so fine a senpai as Shouichi was would be able to rescue Aomine from his apathy.

In justice, Shouichi could admit that he was hardly suited to be anyone's white knight, but then, he didn't think what Aomine _needed_ was a white knight, so perhaps it worked out better that way.

His conference with Momoi-chan had also greatly reduced his esteem for Teikou's ways and methods, which hadn't been too very high to begin with. Some folks just didn't deserve the good fortune that had been showered upon them, and that was a fact.

It took Aomine just about a week to make up his mind to test Shouichi's good humor by skipping practice again, which was just about what he'd expected. As Momoi-chan had established, at heart Aomine was a fairly straightforward, uncomplicated creature.

Shouichi took notice of his conspicuous absence, got practice rolling for the day, and then excused himself to their coach. "Seems as though I need to go and have a word with our missing first year. I may be some time."

Harasawa-kantoku nodded. "I imagine you might."

Shouichi chuckled a bit and strolled out of the gym in search of their wayward Miracle.

He found Aomine on the roof, sprawled out in the sun and flipping through yet another of his gravure rags. He glanced up as the door thudded shut behind Shouichi. "What do _you_ want?" He issued the question like a dare, wearing a smirk, and though he _looked_ lazy enough, Shouichi suspected that his indolence was nothing more than posturing.

Well, then. Shouichi tucked his hands into his pockets and selected his strategy. "I'll expect your club resignation to be in my hands first thing in the morning."

He'd assumed just the right tone of disinterest and boredom; Aomine laughed, incredulous, like he'd just heard a joke. "No, seriously, what do you want? I'm a little busy."

"I can see that." Shouichi flicked a glance at Aomine's crotch and his magazine and sniffed. "You may leave your resignation in my shoebox or bring it directly to me. I'm in class 3-A."

Aomine's bafflement was surely one of the more amusing things Shouichi had seen all week; it was a shame not to be able to laugh at it. "What… what? You can't be serious."

"As a matter of fact, I am. Remember, first thing in the morning."

Aomine gaped at him, looking as though he'd just been slapped with a wet fish. "You can't _do_ that!"

Shouichi raised his eyebrows. "I'm the team captain. I believe that you'll find that yes, I can."

"But I'm the best player you've got." Aomine scrambled to his feet; his magazine fluttered off his lap, forgotten in his shock and confusion. "You can't play without me!" He'd clenched his fists and looked genuinely bewildered.

Shouichi raised a hand and rubbed his chin. "Well, now, I reckon that's where you're mistaken. We can play without you just fine. We'll probably even be better off without you, come to think of it."

He might as well have been telling Aomine that the sky was orange or have been speaking Greek to him, for all the comprehension on Aomine's face. "I'm your best player," he said again.

"No, actually, you're not." Shouichi permitted himself a chuckle at Aomine's shock. "Oh, you're not bad, I'll give you that, but I'd say, oh, Sakurai-kun is probably the best player in your year."

Aomine's eyes actually bugged out. "_Him_?"

"That's the one. You want to know what makes him so good?" Shouichi smiled at Aomine, who was too outraged to do more than open and close his mouth soundlessly. "Well, I'll tell you. Sakurai-kun never misses a practice and he works with everything he's got while he's there. He's always looking for a way to improve what he can do, and best of all, he actually respects his teammates. Now, maybe you're stronger and faster than he is and maybe you can score more points in any given game than he can, but your attitude stinks worse than week-old fish in the sun. It couldn't be any clearer that you don't have that first bit of respect for the game or the team, and so I wash my hands of you."

"You can't _do_ that," Aomine said again, blankly, looking stunned.

"Of course I can." Shouichi shrugged and spread his hands. "Let's face it, you've already given up on us. At least _I_ gave you a chance. You didn't even do that much, did you? If you had, you wouldn't be treating practice like it was optional, now would you?"

"I don't need to practice!" There, that was the flare of Aomine's temper, good. He'd been starting to worry that he'd actually gone and broken the brat. "No one can beat me!"

"First of all, no one has been able to beat you _yet_," Shouichi pointed out. "Seven billion people on this planet and you think you're the best basketball player out of all of them? _Please_. Second, even if you _were_ the best player in the world, it would behoove you to learn the little tics and quirks of your teammates' ways of playing. And finally, and I do believe I've mentioned this before, you need to practice so that you can keep yourself in condition, or else you're gonna hurt yourself playing." Shouichi dusted his hands off. "All of which are moot points, because you're resigning from the team."

"Oh, yeah?" Aomine scowled at him. "_Make_ me."

Shouichi tipped his head to the side. "That's what I was supposed to do, isn't it?" Aomine blinked at him, apparently thrown by this swerve in topics. "You figured you'd push a little and see what I'd do this time, so you're up here on the roof instead of at practice." He tapped his finger against his chin. "Maybe you were hoping I'd come up here and turn you over my knee again, is that it?"

Aomine recoiled, shaking his head. "What are you, _crazy_?" he snapped. "I came up here because practice is so fucking _boring_."

"How lucky for you that you won't need to endure such boredom anymore," Shouichi said, amused. Aomine flinched, faint but real. "But then, you don't really want to give up basketball, do you?" He took a step towards Aomine, and another. "Not really. There's still a part of you hanging onto the game, isn't there?"

Aomine held his ground, but he was shifting his weight on his feet, uncertain. "You really are fucking nuts, you know that?"

"Wrong again, brat." Shouichi prowled his way right up to Aomine. "I already have your measure, and you know it. You came up here hoping I'd follow after you, hoping that I'd bring you to heel again. There's a part of you that needs that, isn't there? Like you need air."

Aomine's eyes had gone wide; he was staring down at Shouichi and breathing fast. "You're _crazy_," he whispered.

Shouichi smiled at him. "Here's what you don't understand," he murmured, right before he seized Aomine's tie and hauled him down so that they were eye to eye. "If that's what you want, I can give it to you, but there is one thing I _will_ have in return. You are not going to fuck around with my team, do you understand me? Either you get your act together or you get the hell out of our way. I would not advise you to test me on this." He tugged on Aomine's tie, sharp. "Do I make myself clear?"

Aomine wet his lips; when he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "Yes, sir."

There, that was the stick applied to get Aomine's attention. Now for the carrot to keep it. "You know, I believe I could get used to the sound of that," Shouichi mused. He smiled at Aomine again. "Now, you put me to a lot of trouble, making me come up here to fetch you. How do you propose to make it up to me?"

He wouldn't have thought Aomine's eyes could have gotten any wider, but they did as he swallowed hard enough to make his throat bob. "I—I could—" He gestured when words failed him.

Shouichi pretended to think it over. "That might do."

Aomine swallowed again, his throat clicking. "Yes, sir." He dropped to his knees before Shouichi and hooked his fingers into the waistband of his shorts, dragging them and his underwear down. He passed his tongue over his lips again and glanced up at Shouichi, who nodded. Aomine took a breath and leaned forward; the first touch of his mouth was almost as satisfying as the slow-burning build of anticipation had been.

Shouichi hummed his approval and cradled Aomine's face between his palms, holding him and sliding his cock deeper into his mouth. Aomine widened his eyes and then let them drift half-closed when Shouichi refrained from pushing too deep. "Good boy," Shouichi murmured to him. He began to rock his hips slowly, fucking Aomine's mouth nice and easy and humming with the spiral of pleasure coiling at the base of his spine, until he cold feel himself approaching the edge. He tightened his hands on Aomine. "Can you take it, brat?"

Aomine gazed up at him and then pressed forward, sucking him deeper, and that answered that. Shouichi let go, groaning with the wash of pleasure as he flooded Aomine's mouth.

Aomine shuddered and pulled back, coughing a little. The look he angled up at Shouichi wouldn't have counted as diffidence on anyone else, but one had to make allowances for Aomine, who was far from ordinary on so many counts. "Good boy," Shouichi said again, softly, dragging his shorts back up before resting his hand on Aomine's hair. "Now I suppose I should enact some disciplinary measures in regards to your shameless negligence in attending practice regularly." Before Aomine could begin to panic too much, he jerked his chin at the wall that circled the edge of the roof. "Pants and underwear off, and hands on the wall." When Aomine stared, he clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Don't keep me waiting, brat."

He'd have worried a little about pushing too hard, but Aomine scrambled to obey and was sporting what Shouichi supposed was commonly referred to as a raging erection, so he seemed to be getting what he wanted. "Now what?" he asked once he'd arranged himself to Shouichi's specifications."

"Now hold on," Shouichi told him as he pushed the brat's shirttails up and brought his hand down, hard and sure. Aomine yelped, and yelped again when Shouichi repeated the blow. A full-body shudder shook him, and a few drops of precome splattered against the surface of the roof. "That's what I thought," Shouichi murmured. He slid his hand up and closed it on the back of Aomine's neck as he spanked the brat, hard and sure. "I'll be what you need, brat, but if you want it, you're going to have to give me what _I_ want, and what I want is your obedience." He brought his hand down again, hard, and squeezed Aomine's nape. "Do we have a deal, brat?"

"Yes, sir," Aomine gasped. Then he came, groaning, the next time Shouichi brought his hand down. He shook, hips jerking as he came all over the wall, and then slumped, head lolling between his trembling arms.

Shouichi stroked his fingers up into Aomine's damp hair, petting him. "Good boy," he murmured again, and he hoped that this time, the lesson would stick.

**end**

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